


Not So Lonely Anymore

by Adapted_Batteries



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: M/M, Smith's a cool rogue character, Trott's a mechanic, Werewolves, asexual selkie!Trott, kelpie!smith, part of "A Chance For Discovery" Universe, were!ross
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7179599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adapted_Batteries/pseuds/Adapted_Batteries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trott’s settled again, this time in Redwick. He kinda likes it here. The people are nice and all, but there’s nothing here that fixes the emptiness in his heart, the longing for a place to call home. </p><p>Then one evening, a strange man arrives in town, sparking something in Trott that he doesn’t want to let go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New Kelpie in Town

**Author's Note:**

> This is a spinoff of my other story [ “A Chance for Discovery” ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3969583/chapters/8904663). You don’t necessarily need to read it to understand this story, but feel free to check out [ Chapter 12: Redwick ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3969583/chapters/9953093) if you need it.
> 
> For those who have read my other story, there are some aspects that I changed to fit my ideas, mainly Redwick is more modern than in A Chance for Discovery.

Trott had only been in Redwick two months now, not that anyone called him that here. The name was reserved for close friends, but with his lack of those in this town, the name wasn’t mentioned. The locals were nice, but Trott made little effort in socializing. Sure, he’d go to the tavern and have a pint or two, but everyone seemed to keep their distance. Perhaps he gave off some aura that warded people off, the complete opposite of what a selkie normally does, because he was far from the sea. He left willingly; he didn’t desire “normal” selkie life, and left his pod. He did miss the water, but he didn’t miss the bullying from his pod. Why was it so wrong that he didn’t want to seduce people?

He found his knack when he started fixing up steamcarts. It just came naturally, and he could make a living off of it. After wandering from town to town for a few years, he found himself in Redwick, a growing town with a lack of automobiles. It had been quite easy to convince the residents to use them, especially product producing businesses like the carpenter or blacksmith. Of course some were skeptical, and some couldn’t afford them, but that was commonplace in all the quaint towns he’d lived in. He’d been able to make more of a profit in Redwick with the new lumber mill recently opened. A source of wood made it easier to construct the bodies of the carts, and his connections in nearby towns were his source for the metal work needed for the engine, boiler, and steam tank. Working with the blacksmith, copper pipes were pretty cheap to make. Redwick’s isolation let him drive up prices; though some shops did get shipments from out of town, most people walked or used horses.

He had hit it off with that curious kid, Duncan, who he had let work for him while he was in town, but within a week he and his friend had left back to their home, leaving Trott alone again. He was grateful for the time he got to spend with him, genuine friendliness he wish hadn’t been so short lived. Duncan didn’t seem to notice his aloofness one bit, just content to tinker alongside him on steamcarts all day. It would be a couple months before they came back, so Trott would just have to trudge on until then. Loneliness wasn’t anything new to him, but with that little taste of friendship, he found himself longing for more, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

 

It was a standard evening at the tavern, all the regulars were there as usual. Trott took his familiar seat at the right hand corner of the bar. He made some small talk with Lewis, who was just as reserved, if not more so than himself. Simon had of course chatted a bit before roaming off to some other patrons, making his usual rounds while Lewis did most of the work. As he finished nursing his pint, the door opened. Normally he wouldn’t turn around for such a mundane thing, but something tugged him in the door’s direction. The tall man who walked in immediately caught his eye. Trott realized he was staring, abruptly turning himself back to his almost empty glass as the ginger bearded man made his way to the bar. He wasn’t from Redwick, that was easy to tell with his leather jacket, something Trott only saw in the bigger cities.

“A pint of your cheapest ale,” he asked Lewis, who promptly filled his order. He had a gruff voice, but equally rich and pleasing to Trott’s ears. _What? Why am I thinking that?_ he questioned himself. Shaking off the charm, he felt something different about this man. He was no human, that’s for sure. He was something equally as charming as what Trott was supposed to be. He couldn’t quite land what species this newcomer was; definitely not selkie he determined, since the same species couldn’t charm each other, but his mind was ever so slightly fuzzy thanks to his drink, slowing his thinking. He became even more baffled as he recalled that different species lures sounded or looked repulsive to others. He had heard his fair share of others calls and seen a lot through his travels, but how come this one wasn't repulsing him? It was quite the opposite in fact. The unnerving feeling of being stared at broke his train of thought; he turned his head to find the source of the gaze, that stranger next to him.

Trott cleared his throat, offering a pathetic hello to the mystery man. A mix of emotions played across the man’s face before it settled on a relaxed, almost sympathetic expression. Perhaps the man had sensed he wasn’t human as well. He looked Trott over before responding. “What’s your name?” he asked. 

“Chris,” he answered feebly. He didn’t mean to sound uncomfortable, but this just naturally happened. 

“I’m Smith,” the man continued, offering his hand to Trott. Skin contact would confirm that he wasn’t human, perhaps even give him a hint as to what species Smith was. Sure enough, the shake confirmed his suspicions, but he still couldn’t determine Smith’s kind. 

“What are you?” Trott blurted somewhat quietly, still holding on to Smith’s hand. Fortunately Lewis was down at the other end of the bar. The question didn’t even phase Smith, nor did he even acknowledge Trott’s awkwardness. 

“Kelpie, what are you?” Smith asked back. Out of habit, Trott nervously looked around, even though Smith had already revealed what he was. 

“I’m a selkie,” he responded. Smith made a face, a mix of surprise and confusion. “Not a normal one, anyway.” Trott realized he was still holding Smith’s hand, and let go, inwardly chiding himself even though Smith didn’t seem to mind. 

“A selkie?” Smith rhetorically asked in disbelief. Immediately he realized how that sounded to Chris, who had looked back down to his now empty glass. “Sorry, it’s just, well you don’t look like other selkies I’ve seen.” Chris further shrunk into himself. “I...damn...sorry, I didn’t mean that in a bad way, most selkies don’t look attractive to me.” At this statement, Chris looked up to a blushing Smith, smiling at the compliment. 

“It’s fine, I’ve definitely had worse,” Chris assured him. “I don’t...I can’t lure, which is pretty much selkie life. Left my pod years ago.” Trott had no idea why he was divulging his life, or why to a not-repulsing kelpie, but now he was going to get information from Smith. “So what brings a kelpie all the way to Redwick? There’s no lakes for days around here.” 

“I don’t need a lake to get a victim,” Smith answered, a devilish smirk on his face. “Like you, I’m a different kelpie. I can produce water.” Trott raised an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“Really? Prove it,” Trott requested. 

“For that, we’d have to go back to your place,” Smith said suggestively, exaggerating his point by waggling his eyebrows. Trott just shook his head. Smith didn’t see the faint smile on Trott’s face, and thought he took it seriously. “I didn’t mean...I’m not trying to get you into bed if that’s what you were thinking.” 

“Never thought I’d get a kelpie apologizing to me,” Trott responded with a chuckle. Smith relaxed as he realized Trott wasn’t mad. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to get with anyone. It’s probably why I can’t lure.” Smith’s curiosity came back, but in a much less blunt way. 

“I think you’re the first asexual selkie I’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” Smith said, a warm smile on his face. 

“So why are you here? A small town isn’t a very good place to get victims,” Chris asked. Smith’s self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck as he contemplated how to answer the question. 

“I got lazy in my tactics, and the locals got on my trail without me realizing it. I got in a scrap one night with a group of them, and someone had a silver bullet,” Smith paused his recounting and pulled his shirt and jacket to the side, showing off a thick scar on his left shoulder that looked like it was still healing. “Thankfully they were a bad shot, and I could get away before they tried again. I left that city within an hour of the incident, and been traveling since till I stopped here. I don’t plan on staying long, just enough to rest.” Smith took a sip of his ale before asking, “What brought you to this little town?” Trott shrugged as he thought about his story. 

“A couple years back I figured out I had a knack for fixing up steamcarts, I traveled from town to town making a living as a mechanic. When I had saved up enough, I figured I could introduce them to a more rural town, and make money off it, which I have,” Trott said, staring at the bottles of various alcohols on the shelf behind the bar. 

“Not a very adventurous life,” Smith responded, taking a swig of his drink. 

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not all that adventurous,” Trott answered, surprised he was still talking to this man. Something kept Trott rooted in his seat, like he didn’t ever want to leave Smith’s presence. He didn’t have long to contemplate this feeling before Smith continued. 

“I wasn’t saying it was bad, rather my way of life doesn’t permit normalness you have,” Smith said in an almost wistful tone. 

“If I could be a normal selkie, I would. It’s very hard being alone,” Trott tapered off. “Sorry, I don’t want to bog you down with my problems.” 

“It’s fine, I don’t think I’ve a normal conversation in a long while,” Smith answered. 

The two men talked for almost three hours, having a couple more drinks in the meantime. Before long, Lewis interrupted their conversation to tell them the tavern was closing for the night. “Do you have anywhere to stay?” Trott asked as he stood, swaying slightly with the three pints he ultimately drank. Smith was just as, if not more inebriated. 

“Nah mate, can I crash at your place?” he slurred, placing a hand on Trott’s shoulder to steady himself, but ended up making both men rock on their feet. In the back of Trott’s head, something was saying no to Smith’s request, but the buzz in his thoughts quieted the voice of warning. If anything, it would be quite hard to drown a selkie, Trott gathered. 

“Sure, let’s go,” Trott answered, stumbling to the door with Smith’s weight on him. “G’night Simon,” he said as they passed the man wiping down a table. As they stepped outside, a cold wind swept through the town, making Trott shiver. Smith took it as an invitation to wrap his arm around Trott, who didn’t think anything of it, as they strolled in not quite a straight line to his humble abode. Street lights guided them past storefronts and the town hall, all eerily empty at the late hour of night. If he was less drunk, Trott would appreciate the sight of the sleeping town, but his focus was primarily on getting to his bed. Trott had a little flat above the office part of his garage, enough to keep himself comfortable but not waste space. 

He had yet to contemplate where Smith was to sleep, even as they climbed the steep stairs to his door. Smith leaned against the wall on the little landing as Trott fumbled with his keys, stifling a yawn with his right hand propped on his crossed left arm. Eventually the door unlocked, opening to a dark room. Smith strutted in as Trott groped the wall blindly for the light switch, a weird few feet from the door. Two panel lights, like the ones in the garage, flickered on, casting a harsh glow in the sparsely furnished studio flat. After he had shut the door, Trott strolled into the room past the little wall that created an entryway of sorts, to find Smith already curled up on his bed, well on his way to sleep. Besides the bed, there was a small table and two chairs near the kitchen, and a lamp next to the bed which he turned on, making up the furniture of the flat. The desk he had moved to the office since it had more use down there. 

No longer did he hear the warning in the back of his head as he looked at this selkie resting on his own bed. He stood there and watched him for a bit, before quelling the incessant nagging of thirst with a drink of water from the sink. Once he turned off the harsh fluorescent lights and then the lamp, he settled in to the only acceptable spot to sleep next to Smith, a few small inches separating them. Normally Trott would never find himself in this situation, but there was something about Smith that relaxed him, and alcohol hindered his reservations. Within minutes, Smith’s soft snores lulled Trott into sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if I got the alcohol affects wrong. I don't drink, and google was all over the place with answers of how much it takes to get people tipsy/drunk.
> 
> Anyways, I finally got enough done to start posting! I think for now I'm gonna stick to every other week because writing a million essays for scholarships has drained my writing abilities (hoping hard some come through for me). I'm also not sure how much time I will have to write once I start uni in late August, but I'll try to keep on top of it. The next chapter I will upload on June 26th, 2016.
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [ Tumblr ](https://adapted-batteries.tumblr.com) for updates on my life.


	2. Learning from One Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trott and Smith chat the next day.

The first indicator of his somewhat late night out was the headache, which meant he drank more than two pints, but that became irrelevant when he noticed the arm around his waist, the warmth on his back. They were both clothed thankfully, which relaxed the panic in Trott’s chest somewhat. Deciding not to disturb his surprise bedmate, he racked his mind for last night’s events. He remembered going to the tavern for his usual drinks, talking with Lewis a bit. He recalled the man, the kelpie, walking in the tavern, talking to him for a long time. Things got fuzzy after that, no doubt due to the extra drink he imbibed with his new company, and now he found himself in bed with Smith. Trott attempted to formulate the scenario leading to having a stranger in his bed, probably along the lines of offering his place because his slightly drunken self didn’t want to lose the company.

Besides the panic that first arose when he woke up, Trott was now calm, despite the headache, thankful that his nonhuman metabolism processed alcohol more efficiently. He felt comfortable in the arms of this stranger, the same unknown sensation that kept him chatting for hours last night. He had nothing to hide from Smith, not when they practically spilled their whole lives to each other over drinks. He still found the whole scenario odd, but not alarming; rather, he hadn’t met someone he felt so relaxed with in a long time. As to enforce this feeling, the arm around his waist pulled him closer, Smith’s forehead pressing softly on the back of his head, Smith’s warm breath tickling his neck. Trott decided to enjoy the comfort, the safety of Smith’s embrace, as long as the headache willed, finally trying his best to slip out of Smith’s grasp without waking him a few minutes later.

Unfortunately, Smith must have been a light sleeper, or on the verge of waking up himself (Trott assumed the latter), groaning softly with sleep as he opened his eyes. Once he got his bearings, Smith sat up and retreated away from Trott, who was now standing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that…” Smith apologized fervently to his host. Smith had a kind of cute bed head look; his auburn hair had pressed itself up from where it was on the back of Trott’s head, giving him a ridge that faded into scraggly, almost wavy fluff. His apologies only made Trott chuckle, subsiding to a weak smile on his face as the headache asserted its dominance.

“It’s fine mate, you make a good bed warmer,” Trott answered, leaving the embarrassed Smith in his bed as he searched his kitchen for pain killers. He hadn’t needed them often, only once or twice since his move to Redwick, so he had a practically full bottle of pills. He spied out two glasses for himself and Smith, taking his dosage before bringing Smith his. He was standing now, stretching his arms next to the bed. Trott was thankful it was Sunday; every shop in Redwick, including his own, was closed, and he was in no mood to work.

“Thanks,” Smith answered, tossing the pills into his mouth and taking a large gulp of water. Trott stole into the bathroom to clean himself up a bit before switching with Smith, perusing his kitchen’s contents to make a decent breakfast for himself and his guest. He started gathering supplies, a pan to fry some bacon or sausage, a pot to start some porridge. This was his normal hangover fare when he rarely needed it, he figured Smith wouldn’t mind it either. He had just finished gathering the ingredients for the porridge when Smith exited the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen. His hair was hand styled back into its normal messy state, as if he wanted to make a style, but gave up past his forehead. “Hey, why don’t I cook breakfast? It’s the least I can do since you let me stay the night,” Smith said, leaning against the counter next to Trott. Besides restaurants, he hadn’t had anyone else cook for him in years.

“Um, sure. I was gonna make some sausage and porridge,” Trott responded, moving away from the supplies on the counter so Smith could cook. Smith smiled at him as he assumed his position in the kitchen.

"I think I can manage that," he responded, and started assembling the ingredients. Trott sat down at the nearby table, content to rest his head on a propped up arm while he watched Smith cook. Besides last night, Trott hadn't really gotten a good look at Smith, and even then it was dim in the tavern. His body was toned, a usual thing for a kelpie, his muscles slightly visible under his maroon shirt as he stirred and flipped the food. Like himself, he didn’t seem too hungover; either he had a much higher tolerance for alcohol or his kelpie metabolism worked as well as a selkie’s. He didn't realize he was staring until Smith looked up at him, his mouth moving as he asked Trott a question. He smiled as Trott started in his seat. "Getting a good look at my arse, are you Chris?"

"Huh? N...no, I was just...I wasn't---" he stuttered, trying to find the right words to cover up his embarrassment. Thankfully Smith cut him off.

"It's fine," he assured, that relaxing smile on his face did its job of calming Trott down. If he spent any more time with this man, he needed to get used to his banter. "I was asking if you had any coffee or tea you wanted to brew."

"Oh, uh, I didn't think of drinks. I don't have coffee but I do have tea. I can start the kettle," Trott responded, getting up from his chair to get the kettle out of the cupboard he kept it in. Once he filled it in the sink, he set it on a burner to heat up. With muscle memory, he lifted his right arm to the cupboard next to the hood, where he kept his mug and tea, pulling out two mugs and the sole box of tea he had left, some earl grey he brought with him to Redwick. Smith looked over to the counter where Trott had set the items as he leaned against the counter while the food cooked.

"I didn't think a small town like this would have earl grey," he remarked.

"They don't, I brought this with me when I moved," Trott answered. "I'll have to order some soon, or just start drinking whatever the general store carries." Deciding his job was done for now, Trott went back to his chair, this time careful not to doze off again admiring Smith's features. The man perplexed him; not only was there the curiosity of why he liked this kelpie, how he could easily be in his presence, but for the first time Trott had an interest to learn about another person, a desire to move on past acquaintance (though cuddling in bed may have done that already). Perhaps Smith brought him a whiff of adventure he subconsciously yearned for, kindling this unknown spark with his stories. Trott was keen to kindle whatever this new feeling was; it excited him unlike anything he had felt in years, and he wasn't about to let it slip away.

"So where are you gonna go?" Trott asked, hoping vainly in his heart that the kelpie in his kitchen had no immediate plans for departure. Smith shrugged as he stirred the porridge, staring into the pot as if it were a crystal ball.

"I don't know yet, I mean I can't stay for too long, in case they come looking for me here, but I have to figure out where to go next," he answered finally, looking away from the cooking to Trott. "Ya know, for once I actually wonder how I would fare staying in one place for more than a month, somehow assuming a normal life like you." He paused, looking past Trott as he contemplated his thoughts, before continuing. "Of course I can't now, not till I'm far enough away, but I always thought myself a nomad, never tied to one place. Normally, the thought of settling down somewhere would disgust me, feel out of character, but now I look at it differently."

Trott studied Smith's face as he thought aloud, searching for answers to his questions, and only getting one distinct feeling. "I don't think you could, or at least you wouldn't like it for long." Smith looked back at Trott, urging him to go on with his eyes. "You strike me as one who feels at home on the move. Granted, your species requires that of you to get prey, but you enjoy the near constant change of scenery. Your home is wherever you happen to be, because you aren't rooted anywhere to anyone." Smith seemed to enjoy this analysis Trott was conducting of him.

"You're pretty wise for a mechanic," Smith responded after some time, deciding to return the analysis. "You are nomadic like me, but you don't move as quickly. You try to settle at each town you find yourself in, but it's never worked out. Unlike me, your home doesn't flow with you, because your home is in the sea with your pod, but you can't go back, and so you wander vainly alone, trying to fill the void that seems impossible to fill now, doesn't it?" The last statement struck Trott to the core. How did Smith conjure that up? Perhaps he had lamented his feelings last night and didn't remember, but Smith's searching eyes, searching within his soul it seemed, made him think otherwise.

"How, how did you know that?" Trott asked, genuinely curious. Smith's thoughtful gaze changed into a sad smile.

"You may not notice, but you literally reek of sadness, you give it off in waves. I can pick it up more, but most humans notice it too," Smith answered. Of course, Trott cursed himself internally, this was why he couldn't make friends to keep him from moving, he pushed everyone away without even knowing it. This revelation sparked another curiosity, one he needed the answer to desperately.

"If you can sense it, then why are you still talking to me? Why are you even here?" He asked to Smith, who had turned to plate the food. He brought the two dishes to the table where Trott sat, answering after he ferried the two mugs he filled after the kettle had gone off a bit ago.

"Now that puzzles me just as much as you. Something is attracting me to you, and I don't know what. Normally, I can't be in the same room with another type of lure, but since you give none off, I don't have that problem. The sadness would steer me away too, but whatever is pulling me towards you is stronger than that," he responded, pausing to nod at the meals. "Now before we go into metaphysical exploration of said force, I'm hungry, so let's eat." Trott couldn't help but chuckle at Smith's bluntness and follow his order, happily shovelling hot porridge and sausage in his mouth.

They talked little while they ate, savoring the meal Smith cooked. Trott had no clue what he did different to his usual porridge, but it somehow tasted better than his own. Once they finished breakfast, Trott lounged back on his bed, content to relax with a full stomach. Smith stayed in his chair, not wanting to intrude on Trott’s space again in the bed. Some small talk was exchanged, but eventually the conversation moved back to more serious matters. “So when are you gonna leave Redwick?” Trott asked. Smith pondered his situation, shifting in his chair to rest his head on his hands.

“I...I don’t know, I mean there’s a good chance they’ll track me here eventually, but I can’t deny whatever’s pulling me to you,” Smith thought aloud, watching Trott for his response. Trott didn’t want Smith to leave, but he also had a life he didn’t necessarily want to give up. He enjoyed the routine, and money was nice. “I’m not asking you to run off with me today, but I won’t be able to stay more than a few days.”

“It’s not something I can decide in a day, I’ll have to think. I just...I don’t feel like I can leave yet. There’s nothing holding me here, but I just don’t feel ready,” Trott confessed. “This may be upfront for just meeting you yesterday, but you make me feel...different. And I don’t want to lose that.” Trott watched Smith’s reaction carefully; he didn’t want to scare him off, but he thought it was important for Smith to know how he felt.

“That’s fine, I think I could use a couple day’s rest anyway,” Smith responded, pausing with a yawn. Trott could see Smith was tired, he needed a break from solitude. 

"Just don't go killing these nice people," Trott smirked. "I'd rather not have to leave because I was harboring a murderer." Trott leaned his head back against the wall, resting his eyes from the bright sunlight coming through the sole window in the space. "I do wish I invested in some curtains. Though I'd like to sleep now, it's way too bright." 

"Do you have a spare blanket?" Smith asked, looking around the flat.

"Um, I think so, in the trunk," he responded, getting out of his somewhat comfortable position to look in the chest.

"Got some nails? Or anything I could tack it to the wall with?" Smith inquired to Trott's back as he pulled out a brown blanket. Perhaps he was hallucinating, but Smith could've sworn he saw Chris's selkie skin in the chest as well, nicely folded in the side of the trunk.

"Probably down in the garage," Trott said as he turned around with the blanket in hand. It took a few seconds for his brain to figure out what Smith's solution was, and he felt stupid for not thinking of it himself.

"How about you go get those, and a hammer, then we can sleep to our hearts' content," Smith suggested, standing to walk over to the window. The desire for rest made complying with that request easy for Trott, who knew exactly where his thinner nails were so he didn't damage the blanket or leave large holes in the walls. Within a couple minutes he was back upstairs handing the hammer and a nail to the taller man. Smith tacked up the blanket as a makeshift curtain, leaving the room with only a dark glow seeping around the edges of the blankets. “There, that’s better,” Smith stated, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkened room. Trott had made his way back to the bed already, lounging back against the wall like before.

“I don’t know why I hadn’t done that before,” Trott mused, watching Smith put the hammer down on the table. He turned to look at Trott, suddenly unsure if he was welcome in the bed. Once Trott realized Smith’s thoughts, he patted the bed next to him. “Come on then, I need my bed warmer,” he said, offering a smile he hoped put Smith at ease like his smile did to Trott. The statement got a laugh out of Smith, who crossed the small distance with a few steps. Once Smith was in the bed, Trott laid down on his back already succumbing to the sudden heaviness of his eyelids. But before he fell asleep, Trott added, “You can call me Trott.” Smith may not have realized it, but Trott didn’t give this privilege to just anyone.

“Trott, mate,” Smith whined, hanging longer than necessary on the “o” in his name.

“What?” Trott responded, wondering what Smith’s query was. He felt like he knew the man in his bed for years, and he was long past questioning his emotions on said subject.

“Unless you wanna spoon again, you need to scoot over, cos’ I’m gonna fall off the bed,” he answered.

“But I don’t wanna move,” Trott groaned, earning a playful poke in his side from Smith, which elicited an “Oi!” from Trott.

“Then that only leaves one other option,” Smith retorted, flipping on his side and purposely encroaching on Trott’s space. As much as he enjoyed this banter, Trott just wanted some sleep. With a signalling sigh of defeat, Trott snuggled into Smith, who carefully draped an arm around Trott’s waist.

“Night, Smith.”

“Night, Trott.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still haven't made any progress yet on this story, which is a bit concerning. I've still got enough already written for now, and I don't want to force it out. As of now, I'm still sticking with posting a new chapter every two weeks, to the next chapter will be posted on July 10th, 2016.


	3. Finding a Puppy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smith explores Redwick and finds a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may be confused why I uploaded on a Friday before the day I said. Turns out I'm going on vacation this weekend (I found out Monday) so I won't be home to upload it, and I don't feel like trying to save it in a draft and post it Sunday in case the internet is not great or I'm busy.

After a lazy Sunday with Smith, Trott had to go to work the next day. “You can hang around if you want, or go explore town,” Trott said as they ate breakfast. “Just don’t go killing anyone,” Trott added after a bite of oatmeal. Smith tried to smirk as best as he could with a mouthful, but decided to swallow before replying.

“Aw mate, maybe I need something _fun_ to kill the time,” he joked, earning a sigh from Trott. He didn't plan on loitering all day in Trott's shop, so after they finished eating breakfast, Smith decided to wander around town.

Redwick was quaint, compared to the cities Smith had lived in before. The people were nice, and friendly, something he wasn’t used to from a large city. Everyone ignored each other there, and it was much easier for Smith to feed that way, pulling victims aside unnoticed. He took a large risk when he moved to a smaller town, Clearbrook, and people noticed the disappearances. Fortunately for the citizens of Redwick, Smith wouldn’t need to feed until he left.

Smith spent a good couple of hours just walking around, looking in shop windows, eventually stopping to just people watch. It was such a change from the hustle and bustle of Magden, some 100,000 people strong. Even Clearbrook seemed busier than this with around 7,000 people. He had found a nice bench under a porch, near the blacksmith. It was a nice day, not too hot, but warm enough to make him shed his jacket at Trott’s flat. Around noon, a man in particular caught Smith’s eye, making his way to the blacksmith. 

The man was tall, about the same height as himself Smith guessed, and quite lean. Smith figured he didn’t come into town often, based on his simple cream colored tunic, with occasional smudges on it, and dark brown trousers, making him stick out of place ever so slightly from the jeans and button down shirts most people were wearing. Smith didn’t really care that he was staring; this man had a gorgeous profile, and the blacksmith kept him in the perfect pose. _If only I had a camera, or a photographic memory,_ Smith mused, watching the fluid motions of the man reaching into his bag and hand something to the blacksmith, who then left into the interior of his workshop. 

There were some items on a table in front of this stranger, and he seemed to be studying them, picking a couple up to look at before setting the metal objects back down. One in particular was quite metallic, perhaps a polished steel Smith assumed, but as soon as the man picked it up, he dropped it as if it was hot, clenching his hand shut. _That was weird,_ Smith thought, until his mind registered the shiny metal as possibly silver. _Well, in that case, this man is either a kelpie like myself, though probably not, I could tell already if he was, so he’s either a werewolf or a vampire, but he looks too dark to be a vampire...and he wouldn’t be out on this bright day, duh...so he’s probably a werewolf. _As smith came to his conclusion, the man looked around, seeing if anyone had witnessed him dropping the silver, finding no one but Smith’s eyes looking at him. For a few seconds, they stared at each other; Smith concluded this man was even better to look at from the front, striking blue eyes and delicate lips brought to his attention by the man subconsciously licking them. He seemed to be deciding on what to do about Smith when the blacksmith came back, taking his attention again.__

__A part of Smith said he should run, but he immediately dropped that idea, since the werewolf could no doubt follow his scent. What was he afraid of? Smith hadn’t done anything wrong, and knowing that this good-looking stranger was a werewolf didn’t mean much to him. He decided to play it cool and wait, _let the prey come to me_ he thought with a chuckle. He couldn’t kill a werewolf, and if he for some reason needed to, silver was the best way, which would kill himself as well. _Wonder if this werewolf wants a good time, not had fun like that in years_ he mused, though he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Charms had to be really strong to work on wolves, and even then, he had to be careful he didn’t get hurt; werewolves liked it rough. But once they got to a certain point of arousal, Smith could drop his charm and concentrate on his safety._ _

__As Smith got lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice the man walk up to him until he took up all of Smith’s field of vision. He quickly shook himself out his daze and tried his best to be nonchalant. “Hello,” he responded, drawing out the “o” slightly as he looked the man over. _Even better up close_ . He assumed the wolf in him would bark up a storm, maybe even get him to growl, but the stranger seemed to repress those urges well, if they were even there at all._ _

__“Hi, um,” the man paused to lick his lips, drawing Smith’s attention to them yet again, “did you happen to see me, uh, drop that silver a bit ago?” The man’s eyes, big and icey blue, seemed to be nervous almost. _A strong charm should work well on him,_ Smith concluded. _ _

__“Yup,” Smith nodded, already starting his charm. At first it looked like it was working, but suddenly Ross shook his head, clearing away Smith’s charm. Now that nervous expression was gone, replaced with a menacing expression._ _

__“What did you just try to do to me?” he asked, almost, but not quite a growl. This was Smith’s cue to get up and try to leave. They were the same size, the werewolf a bit taller by a couple inches, but he would definitely overpower Smith because of his kind. He still had an interest in this man, so Smith tried to play it cool._ _

__“What are you talking about, I didn’t do anything,” he responded, not quite as confident as he wanted. _Come on, Smith, you can’t seem weak to this hot guy.__ _

____“You’re not human, I can smell it,” the man stated. The anger in his voice seemed to leave, leaving Smith unsure how to respond._ _ _ _

____“Well, neither are you, especially because of what you just said,” Smith smirked, trying for “charming without an actual charm”, _just because he broke through my charm doesn’t mean I still can’t try and get a drink with him_. “I’m guessing werewolf.”_ _ _ _

____The man seemed to be a bit more relaxed now, even checking Smith out a bit if he was watching his eyes and interpreting the movements right. He nodded, still looking a bit warily at Smith, trying to get Smith's scent to determine his kind, but sleeping in Trott's bed the night before threw the werewolf off. "What are you? I didn't think there was such a thing as a selkie/kelpie hybrid." Smith was confused at first, until he comprehended why he smelled like Trott._ _ _ _

____"I don't think there is either. I'm a kelpie, my, uh, friend, he's a selkie," Smith responded. Thanks to Smith's hesitation, it didn't take the stranger long to formulate a plausible scenario for such a scent mixture. Even though Smith knew what the man was probably thinking, he continued with his...task...of sorts. "I'm Smith," he said, offering out his hand before realizing what he was doing._ _ _ _

____"Ross," the stranger responded as he grabbed Smith's hand, giving it a firm yet gentle shake._ _ _ _

____Two things happened within those few seconds, both men unaware of the other's internal struggles. While Smith noticed how suddenly hot he was, feeling a bead of sweat fall down his forehead toward his nose, working up his courage to ask the man if he wanted to go for a drink, Ross's wolf was going crazy in his head. Ross was glad Smith wasn't a touch telepath, because his wolf was growling _mate_ , trying to work him up and take Smith as his. _Hey, cool it! I literally just met him, I can't just take him like that,_ Ross argued with himself, but the wolf only had one response. _Mate._ Before he could argue any further, Smith broke the silence._ _ _ _

____"Would you like to maybe go get a drink later?" He asked Ross. _There, we can get to know each other first, that's how normal people do it,_ Ross chided himself. _Neither of you are human,_ the wolf responded. Ross decided to quit talking with it, for he knew he wasn't going to reason with it._ _ _ _

____"Sure," Ross answered. His wolf quieted a bit._ _ _ _

____“How about this evening, say around 8, at Simon's Tavern?” Smith suggested, hoping the short notice wasn’t too abrupt. This was the same time of day that Smith met Trott at Simon's Tavern, and a part of him wanted to take Trott along. That same part was also trying to tell him something else about Ross, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. However, the majority of Smith's mind was set to contemplating on how to get in Ross's pants, and that part was telling him that bringing Trott along would probably be a cock-block._ _ _ _

____"That sounds good to me," Ross said, pausing yet again to lick his lips. _That habit is gonna drive me crazy,_ Smith thought, tearing his gaze away from Ross's lips and back to his eyes. "Well, I have some errands to run, I'll see you later then," Ross continued, remembering the bag in his hands._ _ _ _

____“See ya,” Smith smirked, throwing in a wink that Ross definitely saw, a faint blush trying to creep on his face. Smith decided to stick around for a while at his bench, trying to inconspicuously watch Ross walk down the street, taking in that view. _Man, this guy is good lookin’ all around._ Smith had no clue what would happen tonight, but he had high hopes that it would be interesting._ _ _ _

____Smith found himself back at Trott's shop/home around 5, not really sure what to do with himself until 8pm rolled around. As he stepped into the garage, he found Trott working on one of the steamcarts, only his boots sticking out from under the wooden, box-like structure. "Be right with you," Trott mumbled from under the vehicle, sounding like he had a tool in his mouth._ _ _ _

____"It's just me, mate," Smith replied, strolling deeper into the garage to look at the machine. He had seen one drive by today, but most people were on foot or horseback in this quaint, little town. The shiny, yellow brass and brown copper of the pipes and engine were a sleek contrast to the primitive wood frame of the steamcart. _They kinda look like someone slapped an engine on a horse cart,_ Smith mused. By the time he made it all the way around, Trott had emerged out from under the cart, standing up and wiping his hands with a dirty rag. "You got a bit of grease on your face," Smith stated, pointing to his own forehead to show Trott the location. "But I wouldn't use that rag." Trott shrugged, ignoring Smith's advice and finding a somewhat clean corner to clear the smudge from his face. _ _ _ _

____"It's not like I'm going out tonight, I can be dirty if I want," Trott responded._ _ _ _

____"Oh, but you might be," Smith blurted out before he could stop himself. _Well, maybe he won't take the invitation,_ part of him reasoned, but the other part quickly countered. _He needs to meet Ross._ Trott raised an eyebrow in curiosity, waiting for Smith to continue. "I, um, met a guy today over by the blacksmith, we're going for drinks later tonight."_ _ _ _

____"I don't want to intrude on your date, Smith," Trott answered, not quite sure where Smith was going with this. "Nor do I want to be in the way for you to, you know," Trott added quickly, hoping Smith understood his hesitation._ _ _ _

____"I'm not gonna feed tonight," Smith started, feeling a faint blush creep up on his face. "I definitely wouldn't want to eat this guy." He paused a bit more to clear his head, trying to formulate a good reason to convince Trott to come along. "I think you should meet him, he already knows you exist."_ _ _ _

____"What do you mean 'that I exist'," Trott queried._ _ _ _

____"Well, he could, smell you on me...I had to clarify that I wasn't some kelpie/selkie hybrid," Smith answered a bit sheepishly._ _ _ _

____"So what is he, a werewolf then?" Trott said a bit on edge. Trott was always a bit wary of other magical creatures, some previous encounters from years ago inspiring his caution. Smith obviously didn't have any reservations like Trott did._ _ _ _

____"Yeah, he is. I think you'll like him, he's a nice guy." Smith saw the caution in Trott's face, but he didn't understand its origins. "I'm not trying to set you up, I wouldn't want to pressure you to do anything."_ _ _ _

____"No, I wasn't thinking about anything like that, it's just..I've had previous encounters with other magical beings that didn't turn out too well, mainly because they wanted to kill me," Trott clarified. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of him suddenly, one he hadn't noticed was there before._ _ _ _

____"Don't worry, I won't let anyone hurt you," Smith assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. That indescribable bond asserted itself in Trott's mind at Smith's promise; he knew Smith meant his word, even if they'd only known each other for mere days. He still felt a bit apprehensive about the meeting, but Trott was much more relaxed than before, reminded of that unique safety he now had in Smith._ _ _ _

____"Well, if I'm going out tonight, I need to finish this so I can have time to clean up," Trott stated as he motioned to the steamcart, partially wanting to get back to work, but mostly to be alone in his thoughts._ _ _ _

____"I'll let you get back to work, I'll just head up stairs, make us some dinner in a bit," Smith said, making his way past Trott to the narrow staircase in the back of the garage._ _ _ _

____"If I don't come up by then, get me when it becomes 7, ok?" Trott asked._ _ _ _

____"Sure thing, mate, now get back to work," smith said with a wink, and disappeared up the stairs._ _ _ _

____Once he heard the door shut, Trott began to explore what exactly he had been feeling the past couple of days. He never let people into his life like this, yet he opened the doors wide for Smith. He honestly wasn't sure how he truly felt about him either. Sure, Smith was handsome, but it wasn't a physical attraction. Smith made him feel safe, secure, and Trott had longed for someone to give him exactly that for a very long time. Finally, after years of living in what felt like isolation to Trott, he was starting to feel like he did before his pod-mates started to shun him: he felt cared for._ _ _ _

____Normally, Trott weaseled his way out of set up dates, the few times it happened. The people who always set him up with someone were the acquaintances who thought they knew Trott more than they actually did, the ones who near constantly tried to pry his past from him. And, once they realized that they made Trott uncomfortable, they ended up fading from his life. This semi-arranged meeting was different, however. Not only did his trust in Smith soothe his apprehension, but he had an odd peace about this night out, almost as if he had to go, that he was destined to meet this man._ _ _ _

____Trott had gotten too lost in his thoughts as he worked, accidentally hitting his hand with a ratchet as it slid off a greasy bolt. After some hissed curses, he tried to focus on his task to finish it, using his curiosity about the mystery man Smith seemed to fancy to fuel his work._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That I know of, the next upload will happen on July 24th, 2016. I've still not made any progress, which is a bit concerning. I've seemed to lose interest in writing on it, for whatever reason, so I don't know how much more I'll try to work on it. I think I'll try to maybe give it an ok ending for now and then come back to it later.


	4. Three’s not so Much a Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trott meets Ross and makes a new friend.

Trott figured it was going be another brisk night when a cold wind hit him in the face as they stepped out of his shop. It was about 5 till eight according to the clock in a shop window next to his garage, so at a brisk pace they would arrive at the tavern on time. Trott was all for getting out of the cold as quick as he could, but Smith wanted to walk at a more leisurely pace. His black leather jacket seemed much warmer than Trott's cloth one.

Eventually they arrived at the tavern, a couple minutes late thanks to Smith. The regulars were the only patrons, except for a dark haired man who sat by himself at the bar. He wore a cream-colored tunic and some dark trousers, making him stand out from the rest of the people in the bar, like he was a few centuries behind. The man seemed to sense their presence, turning around as they entered. He gave a familiar nod to Smith, icy blue eyes drifting down to Trott. “You must be the selkie,” Ross chuckled. Trott didn’t know why this was funny, and decided to ignore it. “I’m Ross,” he said, offering out his hand to Trott.

“Chris,” Trott responded, defaulting to his standard greeting for strangers. However, he regretted the habit when their hands touched; that same feeling he had with Smith came over him again. Something happened in Ross too, Trott could see it in his eyes, almost a feral look, but it passed quickly as he took control of whatever it was. (Trott had a suspicion that Ross may be a werewolf, but he didn’t want to assume before Ross said it for sure.)

“You’ve got a strong grip,” Ross commented, releasing Trott’s hand. “What do you do?”

“Mechanic. I fix up and build those steamcarts you’ve probably seen around town,” Trott answered. Trott looked away from Ross, seeing Lewis waiting for his order. “Uh, the usual.” Lewis nodded and walked off, fulfilling his and Smith’s order.

“I’ve not seen you before, when did you come to Redwick?” Ross asked, taking a sip of his own cider.

“Around two months ago,” Trott stated.

“Then you just missed me,” Ross chucked. “I only come in town every few months or so, my home is about a day’s walk from here.” Lewis brought back the drinks; Smith apparently got some hard liquor, possibly whiskey, while Trott went for his usual pint of local cider. Trott took a rather big gulp, out of nervousness he supposed, though with Smith right next to him, he didn’t feel scared.

“Any reason for living so far out?” Trott queried, out of curiosity.

Ross chucked again, but with a layer of sadness. “Well, being a werewolf tends to not work out well in any community setting.”

“Oh, sorry,” Trott apologized. 

“It’s ok, it’s been three years now,” Ross assured, though the quaver at the end of his sentence betrayed his confidence. “Living alone in the forest means I can’t do that again.” Trott felt sorry for him, having to live in seclusion because of what he was. But that thought lead to Trott feeling guilty about himself; he was basically secluding himself, until Smith came along. “But enough about me, what’s your story, mate?” Ross asked, breaking Trott’s train of thought. 

“Oh, I don’t want to make your night sad,” Trott started, pulling the same thing he did with Smith.

“Mate, I don’t get out all that often, I’ll take all the conversation I can get,” Ross quipped, cutting off Trott’s pity party. So Trott told him his story, but it didn’t feel as sad as when he told Smith. Something in him felt...better...he couldn’t explain it, he just knew Ross and Smith were the key to this feeling.

“But enough about me, what’s your story?” Trott asked, eager to get the conversation off his past.

“Oh, it’s nothing special really,” Ross started, suddenly flustered by the change in topic.

“Nothing special, you’re a werewolf, mate,” Smith quipped, a little tipsy from his drinks already.

“It’s more of a curse really, I mean I can’t live with anyone without killing them,” Ross answered.

“Have you been a werewolf all of your life?” Trott asked, trying to get Ross off the thought of whatever was troubling him.

“Oh, no, I suppose it’s a recent development. It happened about four years ago. I lived in a village about a week’s walk east of where I currently live. I had a simple life, the son of a carpenter. I was training under him, to take his place eventually. I love building, so I didn’t mind unlike some of my other friends who were training under their fathers. 

“I went out hunting with some friends for a couple of days, to get some game for a feast coming up. We did it often, so it was relaxed. The first night, while we were sleeping, something came into camp, a beast of some sort. It killed one person, and bit me in the shoulder, before the others could scare it away. They carried me back home, though I don’t remember anything after I was bit. Our healer did her best to patch me up, but I was unconscious for several days with a high fever. Apparently she thought I was going to die, but I suddenly recovered.” Ross paused, pulling his tunic to the side, revealing a faint patch of scarred skin, about the size of a fist. “It looked like this within days, even though the beast, the werewolf, took a chunk out of me.

“The healer knew, based on my speedy recovery, what had bitten me, but she kept the information from my family. So when the next full moon came around, I woke up naked and confused in front of my house, and a neighbor a few doors down no longer had a cow. No one suspected me, they just thought I sleepwalked or had gone mad, even I thought I had gone mad; the wolf in me constantly intruding my thoughts the two days leading up to that night, and sticking around ever since. The village did become suspicious of a beast lurking around on full moons, so the next full moon, a group of men patrolled the village to kill the beast, but they were in for a shock.

“My wolf naturally gets me outside when I'm near transformation, so that night as I went outside, one of the patrols saw me. I couldn't talk to them, I could only growl, before I transformed. I don't remember what happened next, but the next morning I found myself naked in jail cell, charged with the murder of three men. I was scared, confused. I had no clue why I was being charged for something I didn't remember doing, but then the healer stepped in, revealing my curse. She knew they couldn't kill me because there was no pure silver in our village, so she bargained for my release, and banishment.” Ross stopped to take a drink of his cider. Trott was amazed at how he wasn't getting worked up over this recounting. Ross apparently had his emotions and his wolf in check; surely anyone else telling such a painful tale would have some emotion on their face instead of Ross’s empty expression.

Ross sighed before continuing, placing his drink back on the bartop. “I still don't know if she was trying to get rid of me, or to save me the pain of them trying to kill me. That day I set off with some meager supplies and tools. My father refused to let his son be turned to the forest empty handed, so he gave me an axe, a hammer, and enough nails to build myself a little shack. I didn't want to leave, but I didn't want to risk killing anyone else, so I set off west, eventually finding the place I currently live. 

“It was rough at first, but I got myself a home of sorts built after several months. As a reward, I ventured around where I lived, wandering through the valley and stumbling on a little trading post called Redwick. I only had some furs on me at the time that I was using for a blanket, but I was able to trade them for a bucket and a better knife. I started making a living for myself, making trips to Redwick, seeing it grow more and more into a town. I was alone, but I was doing well.

“About a year after I had left, a nephew of mine decided to try and find me. His family had moved back to our village after I left, and my family didn't tell them what had happened to me. Apparently the whole village decided to ignore it, because he never mentioned anything while he was with me. He got into some trouble with the authorities there, who decided banishment was the best option. Someone must have told him which direction I had left in, and he eventually found me.

“I wanted to turn him away for his own safety, but I desired the company, so I let him stay. It was nice having him with me, but he arrived too close to a full moon. When it was the full moon, I told him to stay inside regardless of what he heard, but he ignored me. Apparently I tried to use him has a toy or something, I found him the next morning dead, his neck torn up.” Now emotion flooded his face, horror, disgust, regret. Trott involuntarily reached out and touched his arm, trying to reassure Ross. He looked up from his lap to Trott, a sad but thankful smile appearing on his face. With a deep breath, he continued yet again. “I kept his stuff he brought: his extra clothes, some toys he brought along, he wasn't any older than twelve years old. Who knew three years later I'd need his clothes when a person I turned into a werewolf a month before woke up next to me, naked of course.”

“Who was out there with you?” Smith asked, fully engaged in Ross’s story.

“Two people had moved into an abandoned building several miles from me, the previous owners just up and leaving randomly. They were out at the wrong time of night, near my home, and I must have bitten her, but I never remember anything when I'm in that state. The next full moon we must have met in the night, because she woke up in my house.” Smith decided to interject when he put two and two together.

“Ooh, you had a naked lady in your house!” Smith joked, the alcohol getting to his head.

Ross shook his head at the comment. “Nothing happened, I don't swing that way,” Ross answered with a wink to Smith, who started blushing. “Anyway, the clothes fit her pretty well, and I told her to keep them when I took her back home. I've not seen them since, but I still see their smoke.”

While Ross was talking, Trott was doing his own mental math. “Did she have dark hair, and was she short?” he asked Ross.

“Uh, yeah, she was,” Ross responded, confused by the random question.

“Did you meet who she lived with?” Trott further investigated.

“Yeah, he was wary of me at first, considering I did bite his girl. He was quite a tinkerer, he had a lot of machines,” Ross replied.

“Oh, they weren't in a relationship, just friends,” Trott corrected. “So you've met Duncan and Kim. They came in town a couple weeks ago, he worked for me for a few days.” Trott paused as he contemplated Kim, now that he knew she was a werewolf. “I honestly couldn't see her turning into a werewolf,” Trott mused, taking a sip of his drink.

“Neither could I, but she was sure feisty enough to be one,” Ross chuckled.

 

More drinks were had as the night went on, particularly by Smith and Ross. Trott had his fair share as well, but was much less drunk than the two currently flirting up a storm in front of him. No one was paying the trio much mind anyway; Lewis kept to the other end of the bar, talking to Simon occasionally in between serving customers, locals too invested in their own drinks or friends to care about the two men giving each other weird insults punctuated with winks. Trott watched it all silently with amusement. Clearly Smith and Ross were hitting it off, who was he to get in the way of that. It was oddly satisfying to watch, like some part of him knew it was meant to be.

Ross looked over Smith's shoulder, catching Trott's stare. He was slightly less drunk than Smith, but still enough to slur his words. “Hey, don't sit there all alone, you don't deserve that,” he paused mid thought, patting his lap then extending his arm to Trott. “Come here,” Ross drawled, his smirk and genuine care easily enticing Trott in his tipsy state. The bar was almost empty anyway, probably near closing time he assumed. With a delay, Smith turned around to look at Trott, his face flush from the alcohol. Whether he was aware of it or not, Smith had some obvious bedroom eyes going on, currently aimed right at Trott and not wavering. Ross leaned over so he could see past Smith's head, his begging expression like a puppy wanting a bone. _Oh, what the hell, I can't say no to those faces,_ Trott relented as he stood up from his stool, earning two goofy smiles from his friends. Before he could even attempt to sit on Ross’s lap, Ross pulled him into a bear hug...or perhaps a wolf hug, since Ross was a werewolf. There was only a moment's hesitation before Smith sandwiched Trott in between himself and Ross. “You're beautiful, Chris, you know that?” Ross slurred into his left ear. 

“Mmhmm, he's right,” Smith added, his breath hot against Trott's right ear. He felt safe in that cocoon of mystical creatures that surrounded him, like he was home. It was almost overwhelming, that feeling suddenly rushing over him, something he hadn't felt in years. He unfolded his arms from where they were squished into Ross’s chest, wrapping them around the wolfman.

“Call me Trott,” he practically whispered, his voice failing him. As if on cue, Ross managed to pull Trott even closer to him.

“You're safe, Trott,” Ross rumbled, his voice taking a protective edge. Trott wanted to be nestled in this clump of bodies forever, but a voice interrupted their hug session.

“Ok lover-boys, tavern’s closing for the night,” Simon said, a meaty hand clapping on Smith's shoulder. Smith seemed to have dozed off, mumbling something about more minutes into Trott's neck, but Ross had no trouble shifting him off Trott and onto the bar. Trott reluctantly let go of Ross, immediately missing the warmth, but that got quickly replaced with Smith's weight on him, Ross a bit too drunk to completely support the kelpie on his own.

“My place is that way,” Trott instructed, turning Smith and Ross in the right direction. Thankfully Smith woke up more as they got closer to Trott's shop, making it easier for him to get his key out of his pocket. He opened the door for Ross, fiddling for the lightswitch as Ross steered Smith into the room, locating the bed and sitting Smith down on it. Trott made his way to his bed, ready to collapse and sleep, but he did not expect to find his two friends snogging on his bed. “Took you two long enough,” Trott laughed, leaning against the wall near the bed. Ross shot up, his pale face now red from embarrassment.

“I...uh, I should get going,” Ross stuttered, moving away from Smith and towards the door, but Trott stepped in his path.

“That didn't mean you had to go,” Trott assured, moving slowly towards him until they were mere inches apart. “I can't let Smith have all the fun, can I?” He wrapped his arms around Ross’s waist, pulling him close. This newfound confidence was odd, but Trott certainly didn't mind. A snore from the bed interrupted Trott's move; both turned to find Smith asleep, curled up on the bed. Ross laughed at the sight, his spasming abdomen tickling a chuckle from Trott. Eventually Ross remembered whose arms were around his waist, turning back to Trott's face looking up at him. Impulse did its job easily as the two let their lips collide, a soft exchange. 

Ross, in his drunken state, tried to get more rough, but Trott pulled away before Ross’s hand could find its way to his pants. Ross had a look of worry on his face, concern that he had hurt Trott. “Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asked, pulling himself completely away from Trott.

“No, no, you were fine. I just don't want to go that far,” Trott answered, hoping Ross got his meaning. However, Ross looked hurt, trying his best to skirt around Trott to leave. “It's ok, I'm asexual.” Trott hoped the term would make a link in Ross’s mind, but he seemed confused, like he didn't know the word.

“Asexual? What does that mean? I've not heard of it before,” Ross inquired, relaxing slightly.

“It means I don't want to have sex with anyone. It doesn't mean I can't love, or that I can't appreciate a good snog,” Trott responded with a wink, getting a blush from Ross. “It has nothing to do with you, it's just who I am.”

“I think I understand, thank you for stopping me, I wouldn't want you to do something you didn't want to do,” Ross apologized. “I should get going though, it's pretty late and I know the innkeeper likes to lock her door up.”

“you can stay if you'd like. I know my bed's not very big but-,” Trott started, but Ross cut him off.

“No, I need to go, I need to cool off,” Ross trailed off, hoping Trott got his meaning.

“See you tomorrow then, you know where to find us,” Trott answered, stepping close and giving Ross a hug before he left. 

“Definitely,” Ross replied, almost a growl. Trott realized the animal in him was probably causing a ruckus because Trott led it on. But Ross left with a smile on his face, experienced in keeping his wolf under control.

Trott went back to Smith, still curled up and snoring lightly in the bed. He changed out of his clothes and into some pajamas, before settling into the space Smith left him. “Goodnight,” Trott whispered to the sleeping kelpie, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. What Trott didn't see was the drunk smile on Smith's face, but he definitely heard the content sigh as Trott wrapped his arm around Smith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who still hasn't worked on this story at all...it's me! I'll try to get somewhere soon, I'm gonna make myself write something this week. Chapter 5 will be posted on August 7th, 2016.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Smith bond a bit.

As Trott suspected, Smith was much more hungover than last time. He woke up as Trott got out of bed for the day, though he only wanted to communicate in grunts and groans. Trott had a vehicle to finish working on today, so there was no lazy day for him. Once he got himself fed and ready, he left a hangover care package for Smith, including pain killers on the bedside table, soup he could warm up in a pot, and a note on the kitchen counter letting Smith know what was where in his home. 

Work was a bit sluggish at first, Trott getting over a slight headache as the morning waned on. He had to get this cart done today; he told Mr. Rochester he’d be done today at the latest, but he still had hours of work to go, which included reassembly of part of the engine. This job was going to pay well, so he couldn’t slack off and give Mr. Rochester an arguing point for a lower price. Trott was halfway done, getting ready to re-weld a pipe together under the vehicle when there was a knock on the side of the garage opening. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” he called out from under the cart.

“It’s Ross,” the familiar voice replied. Suddenly the weld could wait a few minutes. Trott shuffled out from under the car, unconsciously smudging grime on his forehead as he tried to fix his hair, forgetting that his jeans were smeared with grease anyway.

“You seemed to have fared better than Smith,” Trott remarked as he took in the sight of Ross smiling at his futile preening. He looked a little tired, but not dead, still wearing the simple tunic he wore last night.

“It’s pretty hard to get full-on hammered for me,” he shrugged, as if it was no special skill.

“Lucky for you,” Trott quipped as he sorted the tools he had strewn around his workspace. Ross watched him from a distance, leaning against the side of the garage door. “To what do I owe this special visit?” Trott asked, trying to start a conversation before Ross got bored and left.

“Just stopped by to check on you guys,” Ross started, he looked out at the traffic as he gathered his thoughts. “I’m sorry for last night, I didn’t mean to be so...assertive.” He seemed genuinely concerned he scared Trott.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you stopped as soon as I said something,” Trott assured him. Ross looked back to Trott, relief in his eyes. “I know you don’t want to hurt me,” Trott continued, “though I don’t know how I know that. These past couple of days have been interesting to say the least.”

“You can say that again,” Ross smirked, standing straight and walking into the garage, observing Trott’s handiwork with a sort of awe. “I haven’t ever seen one of these up close before, how does it work?” 

Trott smiled at Ross’s curiosity. “Well…”

 

Trott spent the next hour explaining how an engine works to Ross, who had no experience whatsoever with anything mechanical. Though a part of him was saying that he was wasting time teaching Ross, the rest quickly shut that side up. It was nice to teach Ross; reminiscent of when he taught Duncan months ago, though a lot more elementary in concepts. When he finished his lecture, he glanced to the simple clock on the wall next to his office. “I’d love to keep talking, but I really do need to finish up. Why don’t you go check on Smith? He’s upstairs.”

“Sorry to take up your time,” Ross apologized again, trying to slide past Trott to go upstairs. Trott caught his arm.

“Mate, you’re well worth my time,” he responded, taking only a second to conclude he should kiss the werewolf, a simple but effective way to convince Ross he hadn’t done anything wrong. Ross easily got the hint with the quick kiss. “Now go check on Smith, he should be up by now.” Ross found he couldn’t respond, instead he nodded and went upstairs.

 

The door was unlocked, so Ross let himself in. It was dark compared to the bright outside, the window near the bed curtained. There was a pot on the stove which smelled of some sort of chicken soup, a mostly empty bowl sitting next to it. As he stepped forward into the small flat, he saw a form in the blanket on the bed. By now his eyes were starting to adjust, but it was still quite dark. His wolf inside was already riled up from Trott’s reassuring kiss, and Smith’s musk permeated the whole flat, further making control a struggle. 

He stopped at the foot of the bed, watching Smith breathe for a few moments. He was face down in the bed, the quilted blanket pulled up over his head. “Smith,” he whispered to the body that was seemingly unaware of his presence, not even responding to him. “Smith,” he called again, his voice slightly louder. This earned a grunt from Smith. “I take it you’re not feeling too great.” Ross’s voice must have registered in Smith’s groggy brain; he turned on to his side and pushed the blanket away from his face.

“I feel like shit, mate,” Smith groaned. “What time is it?”

“Around 1 pm,” Ross responded. To this, Smith shoved his face into the pillow, muffling another groan. _You need to get him up,_ his wolf told him suddenly. _Why? It’d hurt him,_ Ross thought back. He knew he was still riled up, and Smith defying him was irritating his wolf further. He found his legs moving before he could stop them, walking up to the side of the bed Smith was on. Smith sensed his presence and looked up to Ross.

"What,” he queried half-heartedly, but he didn’t let Ross answer. “I’m not in the mood to get out of bed just yet. So you can either join me or go do something productive.” Smith’s brazenness was driving his wolf insane; normally he got his way, but his wolf couldn’t take the sass. Without a word Ross moved swiftly to the other side of the bed, pulling off his boots as soon as he sat on the edge. Smith turned over to see Ross swinging his legs under the blanket. “Oh...I uh, didn’t think you’d take me up on it,” Smith stuttered, sitting up slightly in bed. 

Ross regained control of himself at the sight of Smith seemingly backing away from him like Trott had the night before. Sudden embarrassment overcame him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he mumbled in a vibrant blush as he turned to put his boots back on. _Great, you scared him, congratulations,_ Ross scolded his wolf. However, before Ross could turn all the way, Smith reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Wait, it was a somewhat serious offer,” Smith consoled, his eyes connecting with Ross’s. “You can leave if you want, but I certainly don’t mind you staying.” Ross was torn; part of him still wanted to leave, embarrassment overwhelming him, but the other part knew not to pass up the moment. Something about Smith’s gaze hinted submission to his wolf, devouring any lingering embarrassment from Ross’s conscious. He settled down into the bed, making himself eye-level with Smith. The two stared at each other for sometime before Ross leaned forward, capturing Smith’s lips with his own. It was light at first, but quickly increased in passion until Smith pulled away, his hand migrating from Ross’s waist to his own forehead. “I'd love to keep that up, but I'm afraid I simply can't right now,” Smith explained, offering a smile of apology while wincing in pain.

“I understand,” Ross responded, laying on his back and focusing internally to calm himself down. Smith took the opportunity to snuggle into Ross’s side, wrapping his arm around Ross’s waist. 

Trott worked well into the afternoon, but he managed to finish the repairs. Around 4pm, Mr. Rochester showed up to the garage. “Mr. Chris,” he called authoritatively as he strode inside. “I hope you’re done with my vehicle.” Trott was wiping down some of the parts underneath the engine, ridding them of excess grease and grime that had gotten on them during repairs.

“Oh, um, yes, I’m just finishing up, or cleaning up,” Trott responded. He wiped the last pipe down and scurried out from under the cart. Mr. Rochester didn’t look mad like Trott thought he was. 

“So it’s back in working order?” Mr. Rochester queried, looking over the mechanical bits that were foreign to him. 

“Yes,” Trott said, fishing the key from his pocket. The water tank was already full, and he put some fresh coal in already. He turned the key in the ignition, hearing the boiler start humming, the steamcart rattling to life. A thin smile crept onto Mr. Rochester’s face; he didn’t normally show much emotion, so he must have been really happy to have his vehicle back.

“Great,” Mr. Rochester stated, settling back to his stern facade.

“If you’ll follow me to my office, we can discuss payment,” Trott continued, motioning to his modest office. He let Mr. Rochester enter first, himself sitting in the simple wooden chair behind the desk. He pulled out carbon copy paper he had written his financial calculations on, glancing them over for accuracy before he gave the paper to Mr. Rochester. 

Fifteen hundred copper, isn’t that a bit much?” Mr. Rochester suggested, attempting to lower the price. Trott was too tired to sit and bicker with the man.

“Not really, the parts I had to order all add up, as you can see on the sheet. Add that to the several days I spent working on your vehicle…” Trott faded, hoping he’d take it and not argue. Trott really needed the money to cover those parts and live, especially if he was going to be feeding Smith now as well.

“Ok, I get it. You did do a fine job,” Mr. Rochester relented, ignoring the fact that he brought the steamcart in quite battered. He pulled out a checkbook and started writing the amount in it. “Here,” he said, tearing out the check and handing it to Trott. Trott took the check and the carbon copy paper, scribbled receiving the payment, then gave it back to Mr. Rochester.

"Just sign at the bottom and we’re all done,” Trott instructed, watching him hastily sign and give the paper back to Trott. After he detached the bottom layer and handed it to Mr. Rochester, Trott stood up, prompting the other man to stand as well. “Have a nice evening.”

“You too,” Mr. Rochester responded out of politeness, leaving with a nod. Trott didn’t leave his office, but he could hear through the open door that Mr. Rochester had pulled out of the garage. He slumped back down into his desk chair, giving himself a few minutes of rest before standing back up to file the receipt. He looked at the clock, seeing it had already passed 5pm. 

“I guess I’m going to the bank tomorrow then,” Trott sighed, opening the drawer on his desk that contained the locked money box. After he locked up the check, he slowly cleaned up his garage, mopping up excess grease and organizing his tools. “I wonder what they’re doing up there,” Trott thought aloud as he cleaned, longing for a hot shower and some food.

Smith did fall asleep, but from a day of sleeping, he didn’t sleep long. The urge to go to the bathroom got strong enough to get him out of bed, earning a sad whine from Ross, who had dozed on and off. “You’re like a little puppy,” Smith joked as he walked slowly to the bathroom. Ross didn’t even try to retort; when Smith turned back to see why he didn’t respond to the jest, he saw Ross watching him, eyes still half-lidded from drowsiness. Smith’s smile grew. “A sleepy little puppy,” Smith added. Ross let out a bark-like grunt, but a smile appeared on his face as well. With a wink, Smith returned to his current task of relieving himself.

After he accomplished that task, a new one appeared in the form of his stomach growling. He had some of that stew Trott left him earlier, but it had been several hours since then. “I’m gonna make some food,” he announced as he emerged from the bathroom, walking across to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” he asked Ross.

“Hmm, oh, no, I’m fine,” Ross answered from the bed, his face still half smushed into the pillow. Smith started the complicated activity of warming up the stew he left on the stove, humming to himself as he absentmindedly stirred the food. “You must be feeling better,” Ross said, suddenly behind Smith in the kitchen. Smith jumped, the spoon clinking against the pot as he leaped to the side, away from Ross. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Ross apologized, backing away from Smith slightly to give him room.

“It’s not your fault, I’m just a bit jumpy, that’s all. Comes from the life I live,” Smith clarified, back to absentmindedly stirring the stew. When he noticed Ross wasn’t near him anymore, he looked up to see where he went. Ross had backed to the opposite wall, leaning against it, watching Smith. “Mate, just because you startled me doesn’t mean you have to give me restraining order distance,” he jokingly chided, but Ross just looked confused.

“What’s a restraining order?” Ross asked, innocence covering his face. Smith didn’t understand the question at first, until he remembered Ross’s past.

“Oh, it’s a...never mind. It just means you don’t have to stay away from me like you are now. If I want you to give me distance, I’ll tell you,” Smith clarified. Ross stood up from the wall, starting to gain back his confidence. Smith turned back to his food, not wanting to pressure Ross. Slowly but surely, Smith heard Ross pad up behind him, but he heard him stop before he got very close. With a smirk, Smith looked over his shoulder at him. “If you’re gonna be this close, you can’t just stand there like that…” Smith started, hoping Ross would get the hint. Fortunately the werewolf understood and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Smith’s waist.

“Is this ok?” Ross asked, genuine concern in his voice. _I don’t know if this is annoying or adorable,_ Smith thought. _I think I’m leaning towards the latter._

“Yes, this is quite fine,” Smith sighed, content with the warm body on his back. Getting more comfortable, Ross nuzzled into Smith’s neck, peppering the side with slow, light kisses. “Hmmmnnn, quite fine,” Smith moaned. He looked down to see the stew was ready, so he reached to the side to grab his bowl he’d sat on the counter to pour more in. Rather than let go, Ross held on to him, making pouring a bit cumbersome. “Not that I don’t mind your company, but I think eating this will only be a one man job,” Smith remarked, prompting Ross to release him. “You sure you aren’t hungry?”

“No, I ate before I came over,” Ross answered, following Smith to the table. 

Though he knew Ross was content to just sit there and watch him eat, Smith tried to make conversation with him. They ended up chatting for quite some time before Smith decided to clean his bowl so he wasn’t making extra work for Trott. As he scrubbed the bowl in the sink, Ross took up his position behind him again as he had done at the stove. “I could really get used to this,” Smith murmured as he tried to scrub his bowl clean. 

The doorknob on the front door suddenly jiggled and turned, opening the door and revealing Trott. “I see you two are up,” he remarked, closing the door and making his way to the stove. The two men jumped at his sudden entrance, parting slightly, but Ross didn’t move far from Smith. “I hoped you left me some,” Trott remarked as he looked into the pot, seeing some stew still left. “Good, I’m starving.” Neither one said anything; Smith continued cleaning his bowl, Ross just watched, both acting like they got caught with a hand in the cookie jar. After he poured himself a bowl, he faced the two awkward creatures in his kitchen. “I don’t really care what you guys do,” he chuckled. “Just don’t leave me out, unless you guys are gonna shag.” He walked over to the table like it was a normal day, sitting down and slurping at his stew. “How are you feeling, Smith?”

“Oh, uh, a lot better. Thanks for the food,” Smith answered. Trott mumbled a “you’re welcome” as he continued his stew. Finally done cleaning his bowl, Smith placed it on the dish rack next to the sink and dried his hands with a nearby towel. “I think I’m gonna go out for some fresh air, since I’ve been in here all day.”

“Go for it, though you may want to look in the mirror,” Trott suggested, pointing at the top of his own head in example. “You got some crazy bedhead going on.”

“What, you don’t like my crazy locks?” Smith exaggerated, air styling his hair. 

“I think it’s hot, but you probably want to look presentable to the townsfolk,” Trott stated with a straight face. Smith, however, did not have the same composure, a light blush appearing on his cheeks. 

“You’re a smooth little selkie,” Smith admitted in defeat, flashing one of his smirks before going to the bathroom to sort out his hair. Ross was still standing awkwardly in the kitchen.

“You ok, Ross?” Trott asked.

“Oh, uh. Yeah,” Ross stuttered, failing to convince Trott.

“Come on, what’s really bothering you?” Trott pressed.

“I...I just don’t want to lose you guys because I can’t control myself,” Ross confessed, his gaze settling on the floor. 

“Mate, it’s gonna be pretty hard to hurt either of us if you can’t hold silver yourself,” Trott comforted. Ross perked up, hope on his face.

“Wait, so, only silver…?” Ross started, Trott’s nod already answering him.

“Only silver,” Trott repeated. A relieved smile spread across Ross’s face. He let Ross stand in his happiness while he finished his stew. Smith came out of the bathroom, hair considerably less messy than before.

“Do you approve, Trottimus?” Smith asked, bowing obnoxiously. 

“Your hair is now acceptable, Sir Smith,” Trott announced in a posh voice, after which he stood up to take his bowl to the sink. “Why don't we all go out and have a walk?” Trott proposed, earning smiles from both men in his kitchen. Together, they left Trott’s home to wander aimlessly, keeping Smith away from the tavern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t find if selkie were vulnerable to silver like the other two, so for sake of plot, selkies have to be shot/stabbed with silver to be killed.
> 
> As I got Chapter 6 done last week, it'll be posted on here on August 21st, 2016. I'm not sure how much time I'm gonna have to write as my uni's orientation week is the week before, and the semester starts the 22nd. I'll try my best, but I need to focus on school, so we'll see what happens.


	6. The Start of a New Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio leave Redwick to go to Ross's home.

Smith grew restless as the next day waned on. “I can’t stay here any longer, it’s not safe. They’ll come looking for me, they’re probably already on their way,” Smith stammered as he paced circles in Trott’s garage. Ross and Trott were both stood against a large workbench, watching Smith. Trott hadn’t seen Smith so worked up since he met him; it was apparent the kelpie feared for his life. 

“Where are you going to go?” Ross asked, eyes following Smith.

“South, or east, any direction that doesn’t put me closer to them,” he huffed, no longer keeping up his calm. 

“How far are you going to go?” Ross asked. He seemed more curious than worried. Trott wasn’t even sure why he was concerned. There was nothing really holding him in Redwick besides the fact that his job was stable, even growing as Redwick grew.

“Far enough until I feel safe again,” Smith answered.

“My home, it’s not much, but it’s a day’s walk east of here. I’ve been in town long enough I’ve stocked up, so I was heading home soon anyway,” Ross stated. Smith’s eyes lit up at the option until he remembered Trott.

“Well Trott, you coming?” Smith queried. 

Trott hesitated, weighing his options. He already knew what he was going to do. “I just paid rent, so my stuff’s safe for a month.”

“You don’t seem too excited about life here,” Smith remarked.

“Well a stable income is pretty appealing to most people,” Trott quipped. “How do you pay for…never mind,” Trott mumbled as he put two and two together.

“I have an easy change of wardrobe and food, and whatever my victims may have on them,” Smith smirked. “That doesn’t mean you have to do that with us. Plenty of cities and towns need temporary workers.”

“What do you mean ‘us’?” Ross asked. “I...I didn’t intend to go rogue with you. I’ve not even been past Redwick in years. I don’t willingly eat people.”

Smith snapped his head to Ross, an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry, I just figured you were coming. Of course you don’t have to, but I will take you up on your offer,” Smith apologized. 

“I...I have to think about it,” Ross stuttered.

“Then it’s settled, we go to Ross’s tomorrow,” Smith concluded, looking at both men for affirmation. Smith looked around a bit, words obviously on his tongue but not coming out.

“What?” Trott asked, prodding Smith with his eyes.

“Well, it’s been awhile...I’m gonna need to feed before we leave,” he stammered, pleading eyes looking to Trott, who huffed at the moral dilemma. Smith did look paler than normal, and obviously on edge.

“Can you just eat a cow or something?” Trott suggested, but little faith was in the idea.

“I’ve tried...it doesn’t sate the need at all. The seduction is part of what...I feed on.” It was odd for Smith to request permission for a feed; he hadn’t been under anyone in a very long time, nor had he thought of the morals of it all. 

“I...just…” Trott tried to find the solution in his words. He shut his eyes, fingers to his temples. When his decision came to him, he slowly unfurled, stood up as tall as he could, as menacing as he could manage, and said, “I don’t want to know, I don’t want to be pinned for it. You got that, Smith?” 

“Yes. Don’t worry, my slip up in Clearbrook won’t happen again,” Smith responded.

 

That evening, after Ross went back to his room at the inn, Smith left Trott’s flat. It was quite unnerving for Trott to sit there knowing what Smith was doing so he took to packing up his belongings, but he couldn’t deny the need in Smith’s eyes. It took Smith around an hour before he came back, skin less pale than it had been. The guilt of someone innocent in this town dead was outweighed by the comfort that Smith was feeling better. He tried to forget what had just transpired that night as Smith wrapped his arm around his torso.

Soon after dawn Trott awoke to pebbles pattering against the window, Ross’s signal for them to get up. Smith was still asleep, face buried in the crook of Trott’s neck, steady breaths tickling the little hairs there. He wanted to sleep more, but the walk was going to take all day. After another pebble hit the window, he shifted Smith off him gently to unlock the door for Ross. “Morning,” Ross greeted as Trott let him in the garage, much more chirpy than Trott felt. “You all packed up?”

“Yeah, did it last night,” Trott responded as they ascended the stairs. Smith was still laying in bed, sleeping soundly with the blanket tangled with his legs. Ross shut the door rather loudly to wake him up, giving Smith a start.

“You couldn’t just shake my gently?” Smith yawned, sitting up.

“What and whisper sweet-nothings in your ear?” Ross shot back, smirk on his face.

“Wouldn’t mind it one bit,” Smith hummed as he stood up and stretched his shoulders before going to the bathroom. Trott was busy making breakfast, some porridge and tea.

“Have you eaten?” Trott asked Ross who had taken a seat at the table.

“Yeah. Some coffee and muffins at the inn,” Ross responded.

“I’ll cook up the sausage, it won’t stay good anyway by the time I get back,” Trott concluded, pulling out another pan to fry up the meat. 

“Thanks,” Ross said as he looked around Trott’s kitchen. 

“Do you have anything useful you want to take with you? I have the basics, but any extras would help,” Ross stated. Trott looked through a couple cupboards, many of them barely filled. 

“Some cans, quarter bag of oats, some tea. That’s probably it,” he answered, pulling the items out and sitting them on the counter. The sausage started sizzling in the pan.

“Man, I’m hungry,” Smith chirped as he stepped out of the bathroom, smoothing down his hair with his hand. 

“You’re always hungry,” Trott added as he turned the sausages over.

“At least I ate, otherwise you two could’ve been on the menu,” he prodded with a wink, but Trott looked quite troubled, so Smith dropped it.

“Food’s ready,” Trott announced some minutes later. After putting the porridge in bowls and all the sausages on one plate, he ferried the food to the table, then the tea. Smith noticed there was only two chairs so he pulled the chest which sat next to Trott’s bed over to the table as a makeshift stool. “Thanks,” Trott said to Smith who was already digging into his porridge. 

Once they finished their breakfast, the trio was off to collect Ross’s belongings at the inn. Smith didn’t have anything else to bring, and Trott brought his chest with some clothes and food. The sun creeped over the tops of the two story buildings as they walked down the street. Twice Trott looked behind him at his garage, wondering if he was making a good decision, but the second time Smith assured him with an arm over his free shoulder. 

The innkeeper was sitting at the front desk when they walked inside. “Good Morning Ross. Oh, I see you have friends,” she greeted in a voice that was surely too cheery for 7 or so in the morning. 

“Yes, they’re helping me get my items. Is the yard out back unlocked?” He asked.

“Not yet, but I can go unlock it. Heading out early? You normally stay a week,” she commented as she walked around the side of the desk. “Do you want a refund for the two nights you have left?”

Ross looked over at her as if she was family, a friendly smile appearing on his face. “No, it’s fine, you keep it,” he said as he started down the hallway. “You’ve taken good care of me for years.”

“Oh, well, thank you, Ross. Safe travels!” she responded.

 

After ferrying Ross’s supplies from his room to his cart behind the inn, the trio was ready to head out. Ross hadn’t got much supplies, but the pullable cart made transporting the sacks of flour and oats much easier. The sun was midway to noon as they walked east into the valley. Trott came to Redwick from the west, so this was new territory. The forest that clothed the lower slopes of the mountains and some of the valley was mostly conifers of different types, tall pines towering over the stumpier juniper trees. The air here was much more pure and rich, unlike the stuffy garage in which Trott had spent the better part of the past few months. 

Ross and Smith each took a handle on the loaded cart, tugging it down the somewhat worn path. Ross seemed happier now that he was back in the forest. He had a bounce in his step, which didn’t really help Smith when he about tipped the cart over. Ross seemed like he wanted run around. If he had a tail, it would be wagging non-stop. To occupy his energy he instead told a story from his youth about some shenanigans he and his friends got into before he was turned.

Smith’s face, besides when the cart almost squashed him, looked relaxed from his anxious state the day before as they farther away from whoever was possibly pursuing him. He laughed at the humorous parts of Ross’s tale, a healthy belly laugh that sometimes shook the cart slightly. It made Trott warm inside to see him relieved and happy. With Ross’s narrative of pranks on almost all of his home village, the trio passed the time easily.

As they neared the mountains, the trees changed from evergreens to what looked like oaks, birches, elms, and more stuck in a constant state of autumn, painting the forest around with reds, oranges, and yellows. The sun had set behind the mountain that the cabin perched on by the time they arrived, darkening the forest floor quickly. 

Ross’s home was a humble little log abode, but it looked very cozy; a little wood rectangle no more than 30 feet long and 15 wide, walls tall enough for a rather wide door around 8 feet tall before the roof started upward. A metal pipe stuck up the center of the wooden-shingled roof, and surprisingly the few windows in the home had glass panes, no doubt from Redwick. Off to the side of the house were several terraced gardens with simple fencing to keep out smaller animals, in which potatoes, carrots, squash, cabbage, and beets grew, along with some herbs.

“That’s a big door there,” Smith remarked as he shoved the square logs under the wheel on his side like Ross was doing.

“Well, a hulking werewolf doesn’t necessarily fit through a normal door,” Ross replied as he finished his side. 

As the two parked the cart, Trott looked out to the panoramic view Ross had carved out of the forest. With the sun setting, the far ends of the autumn forest looked like they were glowing, emphasizing the stark contrast to the green forests. Far east, perhaps some hundred miles, the mountains that framed the wide valley they travelled through rounded the horizon, a little lump from this distance. To the far south it seemed the green forest ended, the start of an open valley quite bare of large trees. A little ways off, around 8 miles, a thin plume of smoke rose from the top of the trees. “It seems Duncan and Kim are having their dinner,” Ross said, suddenly next to Trott, making him start. “It’s a nice view, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Trott mumbled, recovering from his fright. 

“Hey, quit sight seeing over there. I’m not gonna do all the work myself,” Smith interjected. 

Ross let out a content sigh before lightly shoving Trott back towards the house. “Let’s get it all in before nightfall.” Between the three of them, they made quick work of the supplies on the cart. Finishing as the stars started to appear in the sky.

The interior of Ross’s home was quaint, minimalistic like Trott’s flat in a way, but quite comfortable and peaceful. The oversized front door opened into a small kitchen, nothing more than a few cabinets, sacks of various foods, and a good-sized metal basin with water from a stream nearby. To the left of the cabinets was a simple wooden table a couple feet square, with two chairs crafted similar to the table pushed in, covered in various tools and items. Behind the table in the west facing wall was a window, a simple four pane window. A wall connected to the same wall as the window partially cut off the dining area from the bedroom, stopping at a meager hearth that sat center in the room to maximize the heat output.

Ross’s bedroom was humble, but comfortable nonetheless. The bed looked barely big enough to fit all three of them if they packed in like sardines, a simple straw mattress and a singular feather pillow, with a patchwork quilt folded neatly at the foot of the bed. A chest the length of the bed sat at the foot, and another window in the east facing wall opposite the bed. A beautiful deer hide, taupe with lovely patterns of white dots, was mounted to the north wall, but the half wall was bare.

Trott could see the hard work in this home. The furniture was roughly hewn, in some places not sanded down to be even. The ingenuity of waterproofing the hole through which the hearth pipe protruded through the roof was cobbled together, but functional. The large door, reinforced as well, had the most work put into it. From the outside it was just wooden planks and a simple handle, but inside the door was reinforced with large metal straps and sturdy hinges, with a simple but effective plank “lock” leaning against the wall, ready to sit into the holders to prevent entry. Based on the dust, it looked like it hadn’t been used in months, perhaps years. Younger Ross must have been a bit paranoid that the village was going to come for him, or that something from the forest was going to try to come inside.

Ross cooked a simple meal using salted venison and carrots and potatoes he had grown, which all three hungrily devoured. The sky had now fully darkened, sprinkled with stars. The moon was just rising over the mountains in the east, working its way into a crescent. Inside Ross had two lanterns lit on opposite walls to provide light, along with the hearth which oozed heat into the room.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Smith started as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head, “but I’m dead tired.” Trott stood up from his makeshift seat on his trunk, stretching as well. 

“How do we want to set up sleeping arrangements?” Trott asked Ross who was in the kitchen cleaning a pot.

“Well, I didn’t anticipate guests living out here. The bed’s much more comfortable than the floor, though it’s gonna be a snug fit,” Ross answered, a light blush coloring his cheeks.

“Even better,” Smith quipped. 

 

Trott was used to moving around, finding work, being alone. He didn’t think it was ever going to be different, but as he was smushed in between Smith and Ross in Ross’s bed, secluded in beautiful mountains with two people who made him feel alive, the dreary grey that was his life melted away to companionship with a hint of adventure. This was what he needed for so long, what he left his pod for; wherever these two men were, he felt safe and wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow I start uni, which means this work is on hiatus until I get more written. I have no clue how my schedule is gonna be, and I may make it busier by walking-on to the rowing team at my school. 
> 
> As always I tend to post when I'm writing on my [ tumblr ](https://adapted-batteries.tumblr.com) as well as random bits of my life.


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